


Sparkstruck

by YoGrossDude



Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Practical Armor is Sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 08:30:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11180952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoGrossDude/pseuds/YoGrossDude
Summary: Aloy gets fitted with a set of Oseram armor. Erend definitely notices.





	Sparkstruck

**Author's Note:**

> Small thing super inspired by that post going around Tumblr where Erend is starstruck by Aloy in Oseram armor.
> 
> Forming a prayer circle for some DLC announcement tonight yeet

The first thing Aloy notes about the Oseram armor is how heavy she feels with it on, like she needs to constantly fight against the metal and hardened leather pressing down on her or she’ll end up on the ground. She tries to imagine climbing in it and her mouth twists into a frown. Dalga notices.

“Does it pinch anywhere?” she asks, concerned. Dalga is new to the Vanguard, adding another to the small but growing number of Oseram women in the service; an accomplished smith, steady warrior, and boisterous drinker, eager to prove she belongs. She lifts Aloy’s right arm up above her head before there’s an answer, carefully studying the place where the studded pauldron meets her shoulder.

“No,” Aloy tells her. In fact, it’s surprisingly comfortable, thickly padded and snug without making her feel smothered. It’s just a shame it makes her feel so bulky that even running with it on seems like an impossibility.  “Feels harder to move around in than I’m used to, though.”

“The idea, flame-hair, is to _let_ things hit you and not bat an eye, instead of rolling away,” Dalga says with a grin, letting Aloy’s arm fall back to her side, apparently satisfied.

“That’s going to take getting used to,” Aloy mutters. Dalga chuckles.

“We aren't the type of people to do much in the way of dodging. Built a bit heavier.” Dalga steps behind her, and Aloy feels a sudden pull around her waist, the steel buckle biting for a brief instant as Dalga makes an apparent adjustment. Aloy doesn’t ask how she’s supposed to swim in it. The answer is probably along the lines of walking along the bottom of anything she wants to cross.

“Well, it should certainly keep the arrows off you,” Dalga says, coming around to the front again, eyes roving over her work and nodding in approval. “Might have to do something with this, though,” she continues, playfully grabbing and tossing a handful of Aloy's hair into her face. She frowns at that, and Dalga laughs.

“I didn’t mean you had to shear it all off,” she says, pointing at her own shorn stubble, “Just gather it together at least. Tie it all up and back, maybe.”

“Maybe,” Aloy allows. She looks dubiously over where the helmet and its steel-studded veil sits on the workbench, trying to work out the best way to pin it up and out of her eyes so she might actually manage to hit something with her bow.

“We’ve certainly managed to get right the most important thing,” Dalga says, smiling, “you look _very_ good in it.”

Aloy huffs an incredulous laugh. “ _That’s_ the most important thing?”

“Armor can do its job and make you look like a lovely, sparking girl fresh from Mainspring,” Dalga counters, arms crossed over her chest. “The smiths back home could all try a bit harder to marry form and function, I think. You'd swear there's a rule you have to hammer everything down until it’s ugly.” She snorts. “I don’t want to forge anything Carja fancy, mind. Something sturdy but pretty, too. Armor doesn’t have to all be soot and rust.”

“If you say so,” Aloy says, unconvinced. Dalga looks like she’s about to say something more -- apparently this is a sore topic -- but she’s interrupted by a noise behind her.

The handle on the door moves for an instant, and stops just as quickly. A tentative knock raps lightly against the wood.

“You can come in,” Dalga calls, and Erend carefully pushes open the door and enters.

“Did Aloy come in for that -- ”

“We're already done,” Dalga says cheerily, jerking her head in Aloy's direction. Erend’s gaze follows, his eyes settling on her. Aloy gives him a small smile, and all at once, he goes very, very still.

Her smile drops. “Uh, Erend?”

He blinks at that, at least. She arches an eyebrow at him, looking to Dalga for an explanation. Dalga shakes her head and shrugs.

“We just finished,” Aloy tells him, curious as to what could possibly make him react like this, “What do you think?”

He doesn’t answer -- in fact, she’s not even sure if he heard the question. Erend is staring at her like he can’t fully grasp what’s in front of him. His mouth falls open, like he's about to say something, but nothing comes out.

“Might want to put your tongue back behind your teeth, Captain,” Dalga says mildly, and Aloy barely suppresses a laugh when Erend's jaw audibly clicks shut.

“Good,” he says suddenly, too loud, and she notices he’s intently holding her gaze, as if he’s afraid to look anywhere else, “You look -- it looks, you know, good.” He winces. “Sturdy, I mean.”

“‘Sturdy,’” Aloy repeats, deadpan. Erend looks suddenly terrified. Dalga is grinning, large and wicked.

“Yeah. Sturdy. You know,” he says, gesturing vaguely at her, and there’s a hint of a red flush crawling across his face now, Aloy observes. He clears his throat, loud, shifting uncomfortably.

“I don't know, actually,” she says, leaning against Dalga’s workbench. Erend looks near to full-fledged panic now, his eyes wide and desperate.

“Just, uh, it looks well-forged. Finely - finely crafted. Good metalwork. Leather’s cured...good.” He trails off, looking pleadingly at Dalga, who is shaking with silent laughter, covering her mouth with a gloved fist.

“Dalga does good work,” Aloy says, annoyed he'd assume differently, “That shouldn't surprise you.”

“It doesn't,” Erend sputters, palms up, “That wasn't what -- you -- it just looks like...”

“Like…?” she presses, moving towards him.

“Like it...it’ll keep --” Erend abruptly stops dead, much to her confusion, until Aloy realizes she's closer than she meant to be. There’s something strange and sparking in the little space between them, like being too close to a Stormbird, the air thick with a tension she can’t recognize.

“Like it'll keep you safe,” he says, soft. The way he's looking at her now is...odd. Something about it hits her unexpectedly, sharp enough to make her draw in a quick breath when there's a flutter below her ribs. Then Erend gives her a small, uncertain smile, and the flutter blossoms into something bright and breathless.

Dalga coughs politely.

“Anyway,” Erend says hastily before Aloy can say anything in reply, backing away from her and towards the door like he’s been shoved, “should keep the arrows off you.”

“Already told her that one, Captain,” Dalga calls after his back, snorting in amusement when he turns for a brief instant to give her a pointed glare before stepping out into the street.

“Well then,” Dalga sighs, looking at her with a knowing smile that Aloy isn’t quite sure she likes, “you’d think I wrapped you tight in nothing but Carja silks.”

Aloy carefully looks herself over. There’s detail work in the leather she hadn’t noticed before, the steel studs polished to a bright sheen. It might not be so bad to wear for a while.

“I think,” she says, “this suits me better.”

Dalga laughs, loud and gaudy. “That it does, girl. That it does.”


End file.
